The Gnawers' Girl
by LuxaTheUnderlander
Summary: He had a normal life. She had lived with rats. He had an average name. Hers was fit for a gnawer. They were as different as different could be. So how could Jett and Scar ever become as close as brother and sister? takes place before GtO
1. Prologue

**-The Gnawer's Girl-**

**Summary: She was a rat. Well, not physically. But to Jett, she might as well be. She had a name like a gnawer. She knew how to speak like a gnawer. And she had lived with them. She had lived with vicious, bloodthirsty gnawers for the first thirteen years of her life. And now, because even the gnawers didn't want her, she was coming to live with **_**him.**_** "Gnawer's girl." That's what everyone called her. And now he had to put up with her.**

**He was normal. He had not lived with vicious animals. If she had known anything else about Regalian life, she would have thought him lucky. But in Scar's eyes, he was like a different species. But now she had to go live with him, in his world. It didn't matter that she looked like him, that in reality, she was a human like him. Because how was she going to cope with human life if she had been raised by gnawers? How could she possibly put up with him?**

**How could two people as different as Jett and Scar possibly become as close as brother and sister?**

**Okay, so even though I'm right in the middle of two major fics, Looking Back and RotR, I had this idea and wanted to start another one. So, without further ado(besides a boring old disclaimer) here's **_**The Gnawer's Girl!**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Underland Chronicles! One more time, all together now: I do not own the Underland Chronicles!**

* * *

_**Prologue**_

_Bloody, anguished cries filled the air as the battle raged on and on. Rats' heads were sliced from their bodies and humans were torn to shreds by deadly claws. Fliers were pinned to the ground, never to rise again and doctors rushed among the warriors, tending hurriedly to the wounded. _

_It was war once again in the Underland. _

_But one woman was frantically trying to escape the blood and carnage all around her. But it was not for her own safety, but for that of her small newborn daughter that she cradled in her arms. _

_She ran through tunnel after tunnel. Her bare feet were sore and bleeding, and her arms ached from holding her baby for hours on end. But she kept on, not caring if she ran herself to death, only wanting to get her sleeping daughter away from the bloody massacre that was war. She had a feeling she herself was not going to survive it, but she was determined to make sure her daughter was. _

_Their home had been ambushed, and the rats had almost gotten the small baby. Even so, one of them had clawed her right over her eye. But the woman had fought off the rats, picked up her daughter, and started running, just as planned._

_Finally, she reached a remote cave far away from any civilization at all. She sank to the ground, still cradling her precious bundle. _

"_Silvertail!" she rasped into the darkness. "Silvertail!" _

_It only took a second for the gnawer to appear out of the shadows. She had a stunning sliver pelt and the deepest, darkest black eyes of any gnawer. The woman looked relieved to see her. _

"_So you have come." Silvertail purred, in her misty, remote tone. "I thought you would." _

_The woman nodded breathlessly. "I could not let them kill her." _

"_And you found my offer to be an agreeable one." Silvertail smirked. "Pass her." _

_The woman gave one last desperate look at her daughter, and then passed the baby over to Silvertail, who held her in her furry silver arms and examined her. _

"_She is small." The gnawer reported. "When did you say she was born?" _

"_Just yesterday." The woman winced as a sharp pain split through her feet. _

"_Ah." Silvertail nodded. She unsheathed a claw and gently traced it over the scar that lined the baby's face. She raised her eyebrows. "Bladefang's work, I presume?" The woman only nodded, and Silvertail continued. "Yes, he has always been an aggressive one. One of the few who would not hesitate to take the life of a pup." She hissed. The woman gulped. "But no matter. She is still alive." The rat looked at the child again as she slept. _

"_She will be called Scar." Silvertail said, as if anyone who disagreed would pay. The woman was still struggling to hold back tears._

"_A fitting name." she gulped. Silvertail gave an upward flick of her head. _

"_And now you should leave. You can trust me with the girl." She purred, holding young Scar even more closely as if to prove this to the woman. The woman staggered to her feet and made a sudden desperate movment, as if to go bid her baby farewell. But Silvertail drew back, the hint of a smile playing across her face. The woman sighed._

"_Goodbye, Silvertail." She sniffed, and slowly made her painful way out of the cave. The rat looked back to the human child in her arms._

_She knew what she would do. She had planned this ever since meeting the woman just after Scar's conception. She would bring up the child as her own for thirteen years. Then, when the time came, she would kick her out back into the human world, but not before appointing one of the rat's own desperate suitors as the girl's official stalker. And when the time came, and she knew enough about the human world, they would use her as a key, a key to get into Regalia and destroy it. _

_Of course, Scar—nor her mother—had ever or would ever know any of this. _

_Silvertail stroked the baby's crescent shaped scar once again. "And now, love," she began, "I shall raise you," There was a slight pause before she spoke again, "With _no _interruptions."_

_At that moment, a group of about a dozen gnawers rushed into Silvertail's cave. Silvertail smirked. Her ears flicked to the cave entrance, where the woman had left. She could still hear her antagonized moans as she made her painful way back to her city. Well, she would not be suffering for much longer, nor would she actually make it back to Regalia. _

_The silver gnawer flicked her tail down the tunnel. She turned to the rats._

"_Kill her." _


	2. You Can't be Serious

**-Chapter 1-**

**-You can't be serious-**

"You can't be serious."

13 year old Scar had woken up that morning to the hissing and yowling of her adopted brothers, who were sparring, once again. Of course, they weren't a human girl's average brothers.

They were gnawers.

Scar had known nothing but her small family of gnawers as far back as she could remember. All her life, she had lived with Silvertail. Only recently, meaning a few months ago, had an addition been added to that small pair, Silvertail's new mate, Rageclaw, and their pups, Spikefang and Tearclaw.

She had never known why she had lived with gnawers, and she had given up trying to find out. It was pointless, asking Silvertail a question she couldn't—or didn't want to—answer. If Silvertail didn't want to do something, than may Hell unleash its claws on the one who forced her to do it. And Scar had learned that the hard way when she was younger.

But Scar was a tough, hard girl, and she stonily took anything Silvertail could dish out. When Silvertail was in a bad mood and took it out on her, Scar would come up with any random smart assed response from out of the blue that would eventually make Silvertail laugh so hard she forgot what she was upset about. Normally it was, "Scar, Russetclaw is a complete idiot" or something like that. And then she'd give Scar the look that plainly said, 'agree with me or I'll have your head'.

And to something like that, Scar would reply, "And I wonder what she thinks of you," or "Yeah, only a few more acts of idiocy and she'll match your record."

Of course, Silvertail never took any of this personally. And Scar didn't want her to. To be truthfully, Scar was very fond of her adopted gnawer parent. And Silvertail knew that. So, more or less, the two had gotten along famously for the past thirteen years.

And that was why she was so surprised when Silvertail said what she did that day.

"You heard me. Leave, or die."

Silvertail was glaring at Scar, her gaze full of a piercing hatred that the thirteen year old had never seen in them before.

"But…but where am I supposed to go?"

Normally, Scar would have fought back with an equally piercing glare, but she was just too shocked at the moment to do anything else.

"Oh, be creative. You'll think of something. You always do." She said mockingly. "Just get out of my sight, or I will kill you."

And the terrible thing was, Scar knew she wasn't kidding.

The human girl was a fair fighter. But her weakness was that she had never used a blade, which was the common weapon for a human. And she didn't think she ever would even if she had the chance. She preffered using her hands. She could knock an average gnawer out with just a couple of punches. But the problem was that Silvertail wasn't an average gnawer.

Silvertail had a strange quality that made it almost impossible to fight her and win. It seemed as though you were set to attack her in one place and then suddenly she was somewhere else, ready to pounce on _you_. And Scar had tried many, many times, when her anger had gotten the better of her, but she could never lay a hand on Silvertail.

Scar tried to pull herself together. If Silvertail didn't want her anymore, then she would leave. She'd be lying if she said this scenario had never crossed her mind before. But still…it was all so _sudden_.

"But…" her voice trailed off, and she looked at her gnawer caretaker, pleading for the first time in her thirteen years.

"Go!" Silvertail hissed again, and swiped at Scar with her tail. Scar glared at her, and, sending a few curses in Gnawer her way, ran out of the cave, the only home she had ever known. She was too proud to let Silvertail see the tears that were now streaming down her face.

"Where's Scar going?" Spikefang came up behind Silvertail, a puzzled expression etched across her face.

"Away, love. We don't need her." The silver gnawer hissed back as she watched the human girl round a bend and retreat out of sight.

Silvertail was reluctant to admit it, but she was actually a bit sorry to see the girl leave. She had sworn to herself shortly after receiving her that she would _not_, under any circumstances, become attached to that girl. But she had to admit, Scar had been an entertaining companion for the last thirteen years. She was already arguing with her little shoulder devil about the fact.

_Stop it, Silvertail. You know how dangerous it is to become close to a human._

I know, I know.

_The consequences could be disastrous! _

Yes, yes. But you can't hide the fact that she was more than bargained for.

_It's a good thing we got rid of her. We were this close to caving._

"How many times do I have to tell you, I KNOW!" she accidentally shouted it aloud. Her pups looked at her strangely. She just sighed and waved them away with her tail.

"Go on, leave." She hissed, and they ran out. Silvertail wrenched her eyes away from the cave entrance. She couldn't dwell on this anymore. It was time to plan the next move.

* * *

"You can't be serious."

Jett had woken up to the rush of wings outside of his bedroom window. It had been Mercury, the messenger bat. And the message he had come with had been a surprise indeed.

Jett was a relatively normal fourteen year old Underlander who lived a relatively normal life. He had dark violet eyes and slightly wavy silver blonde hair that came down just past his ears. He was an only child of two respected soldiers. He had battle training four times a week, and a bond named Mars, who was a big black bat with white ears.

Little didn't he know that his life was about to be changed by a girl who could only consider herself half of a human.

At first, Jett had laid in bed longer, not really expecting Mercury's message to be for him. His parents often received important notices, and they were never targeted at him directly. So he was faintly surprised when he heard his mother's voice calling him out of his room.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and slipped on his sandals. He ran a hand through his silvery hair, stretched, and pulled aside the curtain that separated his small room from the rest of their stone apartment.

And then came the news.

He had listened to what Mercury had to say, jaw dropping with every word. Then he had turned to his parents.

"You can't be serious." He repeated.

"She has nobody, Jett. You heard Mercury; she was found alone in a tunnel and brought to Regalia. Since she is still underage, at thirteen, they must find a home for her."

"And since when have we been open to housing _rats_?" Jett contradicted.

"She is not a _rat, _Jett. She has been _raised _by them. That does not make her one."

"She might as well be." The fourteen year old grumbled. "They have probably taught her to despise humans just as they do," he mumbled. "An outcast among her own kind."

But there was nothing he could do to change his parents' minds. He had been born into a family that was cursed with unbelievingly pitying minds, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Except become even more upset.

"Jett, I talked to Pervett, and you are permitted to miss training for the day to come and meet Scar." His dad reported, a few hours after Jett had received the news.

"_Scar_? Her name is _Scar?_" Jett burst out. "What did I tell you? She might as well be a gnawer!"

"But she is _not_, Jett. It is just a name. Now you must meet us in the High Hall in an hour."

"Fine." Jett rolled his eyes and left the house. Seconds later he was airborne, on Mars's back. His bond always knew when he was needed.

"You heard?" Jett asked him, reclining into the deep black fur of his bat.

"Who has not?" Mars answered simply. "It is not everyday that a human is raised by gnawers and then returns to live with her own kind."

No, it definitely was not. And that was the bad thing about it. _Everyone _knew. And that meant Jett would be the target of _everyone's _taunts. Not that he really gave a damn what everyone else thought, but now he'd get more attention than he had bargained for.

"No, definitely not," he replied, somewhat desolately. There was a long silence between the two, as if they were both lost in their own thoughts. But it turned out that Mars had been listening.

"Do you hear that?" he prompted Jett.

Jett listened.

In Regalia, it was not hard to overhear another's conversation. People here talked very loudly to their friends, and sometimes, strangely, even to themselves. And that was why it was easy for Jett to hear the conversations of the citizens of his home city.

'That gnawers' girl arrived today.'

'I wonder where that gnawers' girl will be staying.'

'I sure wouldn't want that gnawers' girl staying with _me_."

Jett groaned. "Oh, that is fantastic. Just brilliant. Gnawers' girl. I will be 'Gnawers' Boy' by next week."

Mars tilted his head slightly. "I doubt it will come to that." He paused for a second, thinking. "But if it does, we could always throw them off like we did at last month's Arena Event." He gave a subtle 'huh huh huh' of laughter. Jett couldn't help but smile as well.

"That was classic." He agreed, brushing his hair out of his face.

There was a sports event in the arena scheduled monthly in Regalia, and everyone over the age of twelve could participate. Within their age group, of course. Mars and Jett had been playing in the event of last month, and Jett had accidentally fumbled the ball and dropped it—and Mars had been too distracted to catch it. The pair had been the target of insults for days by their fellow teammates until they had gotten them back with a trick involving a rock, a rope, and a large heaping of shrimp and cream sauce.

"Yes, it was." Mars bobbed his head a few times, and they both grinned, immersed in the memory. It was silent for a while.

"What do you think she will be like?" Jett asked quietly, breaking the silence.

"One cannot be certain, until they meet her." Mars answered. Jett sighed. He hadn't really expected his bond to be able to take a guess anyway.

"I guess not." Jett agreed reluctantly.

For a while, they just flew through the tunnels surrounding the city, as they commonly did when they went on aimless flights. Jett was just dreading the moment to come when he would have to spend the next two years with, until he turned sixteen and was of age to leave home. Even then, though, he didn't think he'd be entirely rid of her.

It was not for at least a half hour until one of them spoke again. It was Mars.

"I believe it has been nearly an hour since we left. I had better get you to the palace."

Jett nodded glumly. "Yes, you are right." He sighed. "Let us go."

The pair flew back to the city in silence. Jett was already imagining what Scar would look like. Definitely pretty primitive. Her clothes would probably be made of gnawer skin, and her hair would probably be all tangled and ratty. If she even _had _hair. How was he to know that she hadn't been forced to chop it all off? He gave a small snort of disgust at this mental image. Mars turned his head around and gave him a questioning expression. He just shrugged.

As they neared the palace, Jett's stomach sank with every beat of his bat's wings. Of course, Mars would probably not stick around. Jett didn't really mind. He'd tell his friend about her later.

Within a few minutes, they came to a landing. Mars quickly said goodbye and said he would talk to him later. Jett groaned after his bond left. How was he ever going to get through this?

Meanwhile, Scar was being escorted to the High Hall by a pair of Underlander guards, who, to her entertainment, were keeping their distance from her and occasionally shooting each other nervous glances. She would often glare or growl at one of them, and they'd promptly scoot away even farther. It was actually quite funny. The cowards.

She had made the journey from the gnawer lands to Regalia with ease. Her bare feet were just looking a bit pale, and she was a little bit hungry, (though she was not about to admit that to the Underlanders, as they probably didn't even _prepare _meat rare enough to fit her taste) but otherwise, she was okay. The only thing that still ached after a short rest was her heart.

She had stopped in a tunnel near the human city, having nowhere else to go. To her dismay, a couple of scouts had found her and brought her to the city. She had just shrugged and went along with it, although not hesitating to torment them with glares and growls that she had taken to using whenever anyone bothered her.

When she had arrived at the palace, the young Queen Cecile (who rather resembled a porcelain doll) had asked her many questions that she answered with either annoying one word answers, such as 'yes', 'no', or 'maybe', or else, to Queen Cecile's absolute irritation, in Gnawer.

And now they were going to drop her to some random family, in a random house and a random room with random people. She had never lived with a human before. And she absolutely didn't want to start now. But there was nothing else for her to do.

They finally arrived at the High Hall, and Scar crossed her arms and shut her eyes. She was not, as they said, going to 'come quietly'. She was determined to show the stupid imbeciles who were dumb enough to want someone like _her _living with them that she didn't like the, not one bit. And then maybe they would kick her out and she could make her own life, somewhere far away from anything. Perhaps in the Dead Lands, that would be isolated enough. That way she would never have to deal with misleading rats who called themselves your caring guardian or humans who didn't know a bad girl when they saw one.

She almost laughed out loud as she heard the guards' whispered arguments, but caught herself just in time.

"_Make _her open her eyes, Julius!"

"No, I will not! She will growl at me again!"

Scar couldn't help it. Even though she knew it meant showing vulnerability, she gave a snicker. They were _so _idiotic!

Only that turned out to be fatal to someone who desperately wanted to be excommunicated.

"Ah, so she _does _smile." That was a man's voice.

"It is okay, you do not have to fear from us." And that was a woman, in a tone that was probably supposed to be sympathetic and caring. Ha!

"Jett, just come over and introduce yourself." The man spoke again, exasperatedly.

"I do not want to." A boy spoke this time. Well, at least he obviously had some sense. If Scar was in his position, she wouldn't 'introduce herself' to a girl who looked half-wild for all the good fortune in the world. But despite his refusal, she heard someone walking over anyway.

Scar couldn't help it. She opened her eyes and found herself face to face with a boy who looked to be around fourteen. And he looked like he didn't want to meet her any more than she wanted to meet him. They both spoke at the same time.

"You can't be serious."


	3. Will This Ever Work?

-Chapter Two-

**-Chapter Two-**

"Jett!"

Jett swung around at the sharp reprimand from his father. "Is that anyway to talk to your new sister?"

Jett gaped at his father, disgusted. "She said it as well!" he argued. "And besides, she will _never _be my sister! No sister of mine will ever have lived with disgusting, dirty, bloodthirsty _rats_!"

He made sure Scar was listening to his last sentence. He wanted her to see the picture clearly. He didn't care if she turned out to be the nicest person in the world. He didn't care if she taught him the best fighting moves he had ever learned. Because he wasn't going to accept this girl as family, not ever.

She had the common Underland human look; silvery blonde hair, violet eyes, and pale skin. But her hair was knotted, tangled, and ratted, her violet eyes were the darkest he had ever seen, almost black, and her pale skin was scarred, bruised, and bashed, as if she had fought with the gnawers she had lived with. Which, he reminded himself, she probably had.

Her clothes were tattered and torn, and although most of her garments were not made of rat skin as he had predicted (her rodent guardians had probably stolen them from a hopelessly lost and unlucky human) she did wear a kind of shawl made of dark russet fur, which was no doubt skinned from a deceased gnawer. She wore no blade at her belt, and was barefoot.

Both his parents glared angrily at him, and his mother was about to open her mouth to say something. But before she was able to, there was the sound of soft footsteps from behind them. Jett spun around and saw the young and strikingly beautiful (well, at least to Jett) Queen Cecile walking towards them, one of her obviously fake smiles plastered across her face.

"So how are we getting along?" she asked, and placed a wary hand on Scar's shoulder, which was probably supposed to be comforting but, due to the sidelong nervous glances the eighteen year old queen was giving the girl, was not living up to its purpose. But Scar shrugged off Cecile's hand and gave her a look of utmost disgust and loathing. Jett had to work to hide laughter.

Scar gave a sinister sort of squeak sound, and Jett rolled his eyes. Of course, she was speaking in Gnawer. Jett had a feeling that he was going to become annoyed with that over the next two years.

Queen Cecile gave an obviously forced laugh, and since it was so forced, it sounded rather like she was attempting to clear her throat. Again, Jett had to hold his snicker in.

"Oh, we are getting along fine, Your Majesty." Jett's mother answered, with a respectful bow in the queen's direction.

Cecile raised an eyebrow, but she nodded all the same. "That is most excellent." She said, and straightened the small gold and silver band she wore on her head. Jett had noticed how frequently she did that; while making speeches, addressing coaches, leading a toast, inducting new soldiers, or anything else, for that matter. And she always had a slightly nervous expression as she did so, almost like she was afraid someone would just openly come and steal it away…

"Well, we should be getting back to the house soon. I am sure Scar is hungry." His father's voice jerked him out of his thoughts. He looked at Scar.

By her raised eyebrows and slight roll of the eyes, Jett deduced that she could not possibly care less if they fed her or not. If he had it his way, he would rather not offer her any sort of rations, so she might get the picture and leave, to let the rest of them get on with their lives.

"Fine," The Queen nodded. "I must be leaving anyway." It was an obvious attempt to sound firm and Queenly, but Cecile's soft demeanor always gave her true self away. Jett would like to see how she fared while negotiating. Not good, he assumed.

"Then let us be gone." At his mother's words, Jett followed his parents out to the balcony. He knew Mars would be waiting, and maybe then the pair could go for a fly and Jett could talk to his bond, as opposed to the odd girl he wanted to know nothing more about.

Scar didn't like this at all. It was worse then the time when she was six and had stumbled across a gnawer pup that had been looking for trouble. She had gone running back to Silvertail covered in cuts and bruises, blood running from her numerous wounds. Needless to say, Silvertail had reamed out the parents of that violent pup, and had let Scar sleep with her in her nest for the next few weeks until the child had felt safe enough without her foster guardian. That was something Scar had always loved about Silvertail. She had always been willing to protect her. That was why she had always thought she had truly cared for her. Well, not anymore.

Wait, why was she thinking about Silvertail? She had already sworn to herself that she would never again let her thoughts drift to that vile excuse for family. But all the same, Scar felt totally rejected.

Oh, she had absolutely no wishes to go with that family. She could already tell that that boy—Jett, was his name?—didn't like her, and wasn't even going to pretend to, like his parents. She could sense that she was going to have some trouble with him in the near future.

More than this family, though, she hated their delicate excuse for a queen. She was bland as raw fish. Scar could sense absolutely no meaning to her words. And everything she said seemed to be forced.

_She probably doesn't get any sort of laugh at parties, _the thirteen year old thought, with an internal snicker.

But Scar's moment of hilarity was ruined when the Queen gave her a push in the direction of what was supposed to be her new 'family'. Scar was considering rooting herself to the spot and flat out refusing to go with them, but she soon thought better of it. They'd probably think she was mentally retarded or something and send her to the asylum, or whatever. She didn't know how the hell they handled things here.

So she reluctantly followed them out to the balcony, and saw that Jett was whispering to a big black flier with white ears. She had heard that humans bonded with fliers. She hoped beyond belief that they would not make _her _have to bond with one. Because of one main reason…

Scar had never, aver admitted it to anyone, but she was deathly afraid of heights. Once, when she was nine, she had been playing tag with one of her gnawer friends and had suddenly found herself on a cliff, looking out over a seemingly endless drop. Her head had spun and she felt like she was going to pass out when she looked down. Ever since then, she had avoided anything that was above three feet off the ground. Just looking out over the balcony was already making her sick.

"Jett, your father and I are walking back." Scar heard the woman say to Jett. Did that mean they would…

"Scar, you can ride with Jett." The woman continued. Scar desperately wanted to refuse, but she knew it would mean looking frightened and vulnerable to these unfamiliar people, and that was the _last _thing she wanted. So she sucked in her fear and gave a small nod.

Jett shot a quick look her way, and then turned his head back. He spoke with his back to her. "Get behind me, please."

Scar did not want to get behind him, please. She wanted to run back into the tunnels and away from the city and this kid who hated her. But, partly because there was nothing else for her to do, and partly because she just wanted to humor the fool, she slowly and wearily climbed on the back of the flier.

Once she had mounted the big black bat, which had not been easier, considering she had never done so before, she shut her eyes as tight as possible and refused to look anywhere, let alone down. She knew if she allowed them to stay open, they would subconsciously drift downward and give their owner nothing short of a heart attack.

_You can do this…it's just a flier…we'll be there soon…c'mon, hold out, you can't show vulnerability…_

But she was having trouble following her own advice, and that was why she accidentally opened her eyes…and looked down.

Immediately her head began to spin. She felt sick. They were so high up! The humans below them seemed distant and far away, and they were flying just a bit above the roofs of the buildings. She nearly fell of in fright, but steadied herself before that happened and tightened her grip on the flier's fur. He must have noticed, though, because he whispered something to Jett and the pair laughed. Scar scowled and crossed her arms, staring at the back of Jett's head. She might as well not be there at all, for all the attention they were paying her.

After about ten minutes of flying, but what felt like a millennium to Scar, they touched down in front of an average looking building with a pointed roof, adorned with intricate carvings and designs. It was quite stunning, really, considering the only home Scar had ever lived in was a primitive cave that was inhabited mostly by creatures that were lacking thumbs. But the thirteen year old had never been bothered by that sort of life, so she did not voice her thoughts about the house.

Within minutes, Jett's parents (she would never, _ever _accept them as her own) showed up at the house. The man took a small metal key out of his pocket and unlocked the stone door.

The inside was like that of an average Regalian house, but of course, Scar had never seen one. There were stone seats with some sort of cushions on them, and there were shelves that held books. There was a doorway that supposedly led into a kitchen, because Scar could see a table and chairs inside it. Another one probably led to the bathroom. Then there were stairs, which most likely led to rooms for sleeping.

"Scar, would you like us to show you to your room? It is in the attic, I am afraid that is the only extra space we had." The woman jerked Scar out of her observations. Scar shook her head.

"I can find it myself, thanks." She said, a bit sharply. The woman looked taken aback, but nodded all the same.

"Very well." She agreed, a bit reluctantly. "It is up two flights of stairs."

Scar nodded.

"And you can call us mother and father, if you would like."

If looks could kill, Scar's would have decapitated her.

"Or just…Hilva and Hugo, that would be fine."

Scar nodded again, and without word, disappeared up the stairs.

After climbing the instructed two flights of stairs, she reached a doorway. She pushed back the curtain and found herself in a conical room; circular with the walls sloping up to a point. There was a small bed in the corner, by a window. Scar didn't know how she'd handle that. She had always slept on the stone floor of her cave, with a blanket or two stolen from a human passerby.

There were a couple of stone chests around the room. After further investigation, Scar discovered that one of them contained some clothing articles, another housed various trinkets, and the last was inhabited by a number of books. Scar was lucky, she had been taught how to read, and she rather liked it. So at least she'd have something to do.

She yawned, and with a jolt, realized she was tired. She'd been up very early that morning, answering Cecile's stupid questions.

So the worn out, somewhat lonely girl pulled the blankets off of the bed and carried them over to the darkest corner of the room, curling up in them for a much needed rest.

Will this _ever _work?


	4. The Dead of Night

-Chapter 3-

**-Chapter 3-**

Jett groaned loudly as he rolled over off of his bed for about the third time that night. He had been thrashing around wildly, flailing his arms as if to fight off an invisible, nonexistent force that was challenging him. The truth was, he had been having a very terrible dream in which Scar led a huge pack of rats onto him, and he was shredded to pieces by deadly claws without even a fighting chance. And then he had woken up, all three times, to find himself falling off the edge of his bed with a muffled _thump._

He half expected Scar to come barging through the curtain that separated his room from the rest of the house, suddenly sprouting fangs, claws, and a tail. He imagined her pouncing on him and tearing his throat out. He would never, ever admit this to anybody, but having her staying here was bringing out a side in him that had never really been revealed before—cowardice.

He grudgingly pulled himself back onto his bed, but did not lie down again. Instead, he sat of the edge of it and stared into the darkness, fiddling with the hem of his spinner silk shorts. Tomorrow he would have to go back to battle training, and by then, everyone in his training group would know that his family was now playing host for the near spawn of a gnawer. The gnawers' girl. Why did he have to be stuck with her?

After about a half hour of unsuccessful attempts to fall asleep once more, Jett sighed and threw off his covers. He stood up, feeling the cold stone floor beneath his feet. Pulling aside the curtain in the doorway, he stepped out onto the landing and slowly walked down the stairs, being careful not to wake his parents as he passed their sleeping quarters. If he couldn't sleep, what was the point of staying upstairs?

The fourteen year old crept over to the window and peered out into the dim light of the city. The torch lighters always extinguished half of the torches that lit the city by day when night came along, and would relight the unlit ones first thing in the morning. None of the city lights were ever all out at once—not a chance. It was a risk that was never taken here in their subterranean city.

Two dark shapes flew through the air just above the house next door, and Jett knew that the night guards of the city were switching shifts. And the ornate towers of the palace were there in the distance, just as they always had been. He had never really taken time to appreciate the beautiful simplicity of Regalian life. But now that he thought about it, it seemed unreal that any human in the Underland could have missed out on life like this. Whether you lived in Regalia, the Fount, or Troy, it was relatively the same. And Scar had never experienced any of this. Should he pity her for it?

No, _her_ presence in _his _house made him far too angry for that.

When the fliers and their riders were out of sight, Jett pulled back from the window and sat in the chair next to the family's bookshelf. He only really read when it came time for his lessons, which he had on the days when he was not training for battle. But in just two short months, his schooling would be through, and he would progress to full time battle training. So a little bit of extra reading couldn't hurt, right?

He pulled the first book he saw out of the shelf. It was bound in what looked like red twister skin. By the looks of it, it was pretty old, because the parchment was yellowing. But it was perfectly legible.

The title read, '_A History of Famous Regalian Wars and Battles_'. Jett opened to a page and began to read.

_**The Conflict of Hades**__, __**1782**_

_This famous conflict began as a land dispute over Hades Hall, a passage below the surface of the Underland traveling from the Fount to the Firelands. Both the Killers and the Gnawers claimed it as their own, but this of course, led to a disagreement._

_What started off as a calm negotiation ended up in a bloody battle, taking place in the very streets of Regalia. _

_The first wave of rats entered the city just after the afternoon guards left their posts to switch shifts, taking advantage of the lack of reinforcement. But after the initial shock was done with, the humans fought viciously back. One soldier was quoted to have said, 'It was like as if they were a single force; fighting together, moving as one. And all for a small bit passage in the ground!'_

The next few paragraphs didn't interest Jett. He let his eyes scan the rest of the chapter, hoping to catch sight of something interesting.

_Some of the weapons used in this battle were hand fashioned daggers, which had made their first appearance only the year before, swords which—_

Nope, he knew enough about weapons.

_Major contributors to this battle: Corporal Zubeida III (humans), General Bloodscrape IV (gnawers), Colonel Rod XII (humans), Princess Faye V (gnawers)—_

Jett stopped and looked at the page harder. Princess Faye? Hadn't she been a human princess? Why was she listed as an ally of the gnawers? He flipped to the book's index and looked up the name. Sure enough, in the short biography, it said that Faye had wandered away from the palace as a young princess, and a rat had found her and raised her, and that was why Faye fought on the side of the gnawers for Hades Hall.

Jett shut the book, mouth open slightly. So there had been others in his city's history like Scar. Royalty, even. But in reality, that didn't really make him feel any better about the whole situation. He doubted that any of _them _had been kicked out of the rats' land and gone to live with a really unlucky adolescent who just wanted to live a normal life, without any glitches or issues.

With a sigh, Jett reached over to the shelf again and picked out another book. It was obviously fiction, by the sound of the title. _Boreas the Bat and his Big Problem. _It sounded like one of those books he had liked when he was too young to even pick up a sword. He flipped to the last page.

_'And with a smile, Boreas flew off to his cave, to live happily ever after.'_

How very typical. A 'happily ever after' ending. Those irritated Jett more than anything. Wasn't it better to teach children that life hardly ever turned out the way it did in those kinds of stories? It certainly wasn't working out that way for him.

He groaned in frustration and tossed the book onto the stone floor in disgust with a loud _thump_. He immediately realized his mistake, and shoved the book back onto the shelf hurriedly. He didn't want to wake anyone up.

But nevertheless, his efforts were proven to be in vain as he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Jett knew who it was already. And she didn't seem to care about concealing the fact that she was sneaking out of bed, because she wasn't even creeping along silently.

She completely ignored him when she passed the chair he was sitting in. He cocked an eyebrow. What the hell was her problem?

"Where are you going?" His tone was scornful.

She didn't turn back. "Out," she responded simply. She stopped walking for a minute, just before she reached the door. "Don't worry, I'm coming back…not like you care." She was mocking him. He didn't like that.

"You got that right. You could go launch yourself off a cliff for all I care." He wasn't sure if he really meant what he was saying. But something told him she would not take it personally.

For the first time, she turned to him, eyebrows raised. He though he caught a hint of amusement on her scarred, pale face. "I'll keep that in mind," she said, and Jett was sure the corners of her mouth twitched into a sort of smirk, but it was gone in a flash, and she looked solemn again.

"What about light?" He was surprised to find himself suggesting something that could help her. "They extinguish a lot of the city torches at night." Like she couldn't already see that.

"I can see," she answered simply. "I can probably see better than you can _with_ light."

Was that an insult? "How?" he asked.

"You get used to the dark" was her response, and with that, she pushed the door open. Jett watched Scar as she retreated out of the house, leaving him wearing a frustrated scowl.

--

_Why does he have to be so curious? _Scar thought to herself. _Is it really a crime to want to get out of a stuffy old room for an hour or so?_

She had woken up wondering, for a moment, where exactly she was. Was she still in the palace, sleeping after being interrogated by the Underland's most annoying ruler? No, the prison she had been in for the past day or so was much brighter than this. Of course, she could still see, as she had been trained by rats to use echolocation to an extent. But when she had been staying in the palace, the area was so illuminated by torchlight that she really had found no need to use her sixth sense.

And then she remembered with a jolt.

Was it possible to endure some of the worst times of your life in just the short span of three days? Did things _really _have to get worse before they got better? Because Scar was enduring a lot of both at the moment.

Relieved to be away from the watchful eyes of Jett, Scar closed the stone door of the house behind her and looked out into the dimly lit streets of this unfamiliar city. At this point in time, she would have relished the presence of even the smallest rat pup around her, just to remind her of the life that had once been so familiar to her and was now lost amid a sea of buildings and humans.

But she knew she couldn't dwell on this for long. The reason she had wanted to get out of that room was because she needed some sort of distraction. And—now that she had executed the first part of the plan—well, it time to find a distraction. The question was, though, how was a thirteen year old girl going to find a safe enough distraction in a completely unfamiliar city in the dead of night?

Scar was fairly surprised to discover that there was no one else out for a walk at this time. Surely in a city as large as this _everybody _couldn't be sleeping? It was kind of peculiar, how quiet this place was. Back at her cave home, Scar had always been comforted into sleep by the rhythmic snores of her adopted brothers and the soft pawsteps of the occasional gnawer walking by. But here it was just…quiet? How was it possible that everyone rested at the _same time_? It was so strange, at least to her.

Scar glanced upwards. The cavern that the city was in was so large that she could not even see the top! It just looked like a never ending space of darkness. She didn't like it.

Suddenly a shadowy shape flew right about her head, and she very literally jumped in shock. Then she realized it was a flier, and she sighed in relief before remembering that fliers carried humans. And the humans who flew at night were most likely guards. And those guards would most likely _not _be pleased to see her roaming the city at this time.

Sure enough, the flier stopped in its path and muttered something unintelligible to its rider. The human on top turned to look down at Scar, who had frozen to the spot, not from fear of getting caught, but more out of the fear of being forced to ride another flier back to the confined space of the house she was expected to live in.

"Hey!" The man gave a shout. "Who goes there, and what are you up to?"

With a miraculous recovery, Scar remembered how to use her legs, and she took off. She had always been quite fast, and by the time the man had pinpointed the direction she was running in, she had already gotten quite a head start. She didn't no nor care if they were following her, but she kept running. Honestly, it felt amazing to be running again, almost like she was racing one of her gnawer friends back in the tunnels.

The city walls loomed closer. It had never occurred to Scar that she would not be able to get out of the city, but as she came to the wall, she realized that if there was any entrance into the place, it would not be open while everyone was asleep.

She was about to turn back; after all, she had gotten her bit of distraction. Being pursued by a man and his flier had turned out to be much more entertaining than expected. Perhaps she would try angering one the next day, and see if they would chase her again. Maybe she would steal the guy's sword, Silvertail had always said that what bothered them most in battle is when you disabled their weapons. Yes, that could keep her busy…

At that moment, she happened to stumble over a stone protruding out from the wall. Whether it was by pure coincidence, or it was destined to be so, it made Scar turn her head towards the huge blockade of rock and noticed a crevice in it. Silvertail had always taught her against venturing into unknown places; there was no telling what could be hiding there. But the hell with Silvertail, who needed her anyway? She was curious.

Scar was extremely slim like her previous gnawer guardians; as a child she had been given a very small amount to eat, as the humans had been starving out the area of rats she had lived with. Scar was grateful for that quality, though, because it made it easy for her to get inside of the crevice in the wall. Once inside, she gave a tentative click with her tongue, and her echolocation brought up a long passage. Well, it couldn't hurt to explore, could it? She took a step, and collided with a large heap of gray fur. The furry heap whacked her away and stared her down. It spoke.

"And just who are you?"


	5. Scythe

-Chapter 4-

**-Chapter 4-**

A million thoughts were running through Scar's head at once as she lay on the cold stone ground. The furry gray heap of a rat loomed over her, his jaws bared in a snarl.

As she had done so countless times before with other gnawers she had fought with, whether it was a play-fight or a real one, she mirrored his image and growled back. For a second, human and rat wore the same expression, and then the rat spoke.

"You're a human."

_No shit, Sherlock. _Scar rolled her eyes. "Yes, I am."

"What are you doing here?"

_Oh, I'm just here enjoying the view. What do you think, dumbass? _

"I live here." She said these words with a hint of revulsion and reluctance, because until very recently, she had made her home somewhere entirely different. It wasn't easy, being held somewhere against your will.

The rat raised an eyebrow. "Not right _here_, surely?" he questioned. Scar stared at him, disbelief etched across her face. This rat was more idiotic than she had come to think.

"No, I—" she started to speak, but stopped when she saw the amusement glittering in his eyes. He was making fun of her.

The human girl crossed her arms and scowled, still laying on the floor. "Shut up," she told the rat. "Do you think I want to be here, cowering at the feet of a fluffy giant?"

"Fluffy giant?" the rat growled questioningly. "Is that an insult?"

Scar snorted.

"So what if it is?" she demanded, sliding into a sitting position. The rat made no movement to stop her. She stood up completely. "Well, if you're not going to shred me to pieces, I've got somewhere to get back to." _Even if it's worse than living in the Dead Lands,_ she added the last part to herself, and made to leave.

"Hold it," the gnawer commanded, slapping his tail in front of her to prevent her from leaving. Scar winced as it hit her hard in the shoulder, but didn't make a sound. "You're not going anywhere yet."

Scar wheeled around to face the creature, narrowing her eyes. She clenched a fist. "Why is that?"

All was silent for a moment, and then, unexpectedly, the rat began to laugh. The small snicker turned into a chuckle, and before Scar knew it, the beast was guffawing like there was no tomorrow. Her jaw dropped a bit into an expression of shock.

"You are not like other humans, are you?" the rat observed between his spasms of hilarity. What exactly did he find so funny?

_No,_ Scar wanted to say. _I'm definitely not._ Other humans didn't spend half their lives as the spawn of a gnawer, and then get kicked out by their adopted guardian, leaving them no choice but to go and live the life they should have been living all along.

But all that wasn't something she could just blurt out loud to a gnawer, so she maintained an angry silence. The rat cocked his head, and finally stopped laughing.

"What's your name, human?" he asked. Scar placed her hands stubbornly on her hips.

"What's yours, rat?" The girl rebuked, choosing not to answer his question.

For a second Scar thought the gnawer would start chortling again, but he didn't. On the contrary, he narrowed his eyes.

"I'm called Scythe." He answered. "Now are you going to tell me yours, or do I have to threaten it out of you?"

His words were obviously meant to scare Scar, but they did far from it. She was used to threats worse than that, and the rat had already proved that he was not in a hurry to kill her, or else he would have done so already.

"Scar," she answered simply. Scythe's expression was mildly surprised.

"Scar? Your name is Scar?" he repeated. Scar gave a brisk nod. Scythe continued. "Sounds more like a gnawer's name to me."

The thirteen-year-old was careful not to let her face betray what she was feeling. "That's because from when I was born to about a week ago, I lived with gnawers, and they named me for this," she lifted up a chunk of her still un-brushed silver blonde hair to display the silvery crescent shaped Scar that crossed her eye. Scythe looked pretty astonished.

"You lived with rats, did you?"

"Yes." And before she knew it, Scar was blurting out her entire past to the rat she had only just met. She had no clue why she felt like she could tell him all of this, when he had been threatening her just a few minutes previous. Her guess at that time was that she was desperate for the company of something familiar to her, and rats were the only creatures she had ever seemed to fit in and get along with, crazy as that sounds. But whatever the reason, Scythe heard all of Scar's troubles and memories, and, oddly enough, he listened intently as she spoke. When she had finished, she took a breath.

"Now it's your turn. Why are you hiding here, in the walls of a _human_ city?" she asked him. He looked as though he had been expecting that question.

"It's because I was banished." He began. "And I wasn't going to just go to the Uncharted Lands to die. I had a life to salvage, and I wasn't going to just drop it. And I found a way into the city through a tunnel, and it led me here." Scar's eyes were wide. "At night I sneak out through the crevice you came in to steal food. A pitiful life, but it's the best I can do for now."

Scar had pretty much stopped listening after he said there was a way into the city through a tunnel. "A way in? You haven't told any other rats about it, have you?" she demanded, a bit bothered by the thought that Silvertail might send a force into Regalia to find and kill her. Scythe gave a short snicker.

"Not a chance," he answered. "The only other rat I've spoken to since my banishment is my mate. She still lives with the rest of the gnawers."

Scar was still unsettled. "And does she know about this?'

Scythe nodded. "Yes, but she swore she wouldn't tell a soul. And I know she'll keep her word."

Well, that was a little better. "Just make sure no one else gets in," she told the rat. By his expression, she could tell he guessed why she was nervous.

"I will," he agreed. He lifted his nose and took a sniff. "You'd better go. Dawn is coming."

Scar nodded. Suddenly, Scythe threw her against the wall. She stared, bewildered, into his black eyes.

"You know how important it is that I am not found here, don't you?" he snarled. Scar nodded. "Good," his tone was less menacing again. "Bye."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Jett had half expected Scar to not be in the house when he woke up that morning. He guessed—well, more like hoped—that she had decided to leave this place for good and go back to live with her ratty friends. Or, even better, maybe she had decided she wasn't wanted anywhere and had launched herself off a cliff or something. Maybe some scouts would find her body, broken and bleeding, at the bottom of one sometime today. Or maybe…

Jett pulled out of his morbid thoughts and slapped himself in the head in disbelief. What was he _thinking_? Much as he hated Scar, he didn't want her to _kill_ herself! He wasn't one to ill-wish people, however much he despised them.

The boy dragged himself out of his bed and down the stairs into the sitting room. His dad was out already, but his mom was still there. She pushed a bowl of fruit towards him.

"Hurry up and eat, when you are through I want you to go wake up Scar." She instructed him. Jett grumbled. He had a very strong urge to tell his mother to 'go wake up the rat yourself, I'm not doing it,' but kept his mouth shut and settled on eating his breakfast as slow as he possibly could. His mother gave an exasperated sigh.

"Hurry up, Jett," she repeated. "I do not have all day to hang around here, and I want you both to be awake when I leave."

Jett sighed and picked up the pace at which he shoved his melon into his mouth. After he had finished the sweet fruit, he rose from his seat and trudged up the two flights of stairs that led to the attic room where Scar had settled.

He didn't bother knocking; he just barged into the room and looked around.

The bed that had been wedged into the corner was unoccupied, and all the blankets had been stripped off of the bed. Jett couldn't say he was surprised. She had probably made a nest or something like that.

His gaze drifted across the room and he almost leapt into the air in bewilderment as he caught a pair of eyes staring him down from under a pile of blankets that had been assembled in the farthest corner of the room; orbs of the deepest, darkest violet.

Well, _she_ was already awake.

"You have to come downstairs now. My mother wants you awake before she leaves," he told her, and then allowed his feet to carry him out of the room as fast as they could go.

But a voice right behind him startled him again.

"Wait."

He swung around and nearly jumped once again. She was standing directly behind him, as if she had been there the whole time.

How did she _do _that?

Jett turned around again and took the steps two at a time back down. He hated to admit it, but she was creeping him out.

When the two of them god downstairs, Jett's mother was waiting. She plastered on a warm smile and sent it in Scar's direction.

"Good morning, Scar," she said, speaking softly but kindly. Scar was silent for a moment, and Jett wondered what she would do.

And then, miraculously—

"Hello."

Scar had spoken gruffly and coolly, but she had greeted them nonetheless. It was like finally making a breakthrough in discovering the cure to a rare disease; were they finally making some progress?

His mom looked delighted for a second. "I've brought you some new clothes, dear. Would you like to try them on?" she asked.

But Scar just narrowed her eyes.

"No."

Well, so much for the breakthrough.


	6. A Hopeless Case

-Chapter 5-

**-Chapter 5-**

"Dodge to the _side, _you useless lump! Don't just back up and expect me to stop!"

Scar once again looked up in the face of Scythe as he loomed over her, criticizing her defense techniques for about the fifth time that day. And she was fed up with hearing it.

"Well what about your sloppy attacks? I've seen week old pups that can make cleaner blows then you! You're supposed to _slash, _not flail randomly! No wonder I'm backing up!" That was the first time Scar had actually retorted; most of the time she had scowled and just tried again. Scythe fumed, and he glared at her.

"You're actually telling _me_, a gnawer, how to fight like one?" he spat.

"Yeah, I am." Scar coolly raised an eyebrow. For a second, there was silence. And then the rat groaned.

"Whatever. Let's just have another go."

Scar had begun training in the arena with Jett for a while now, and it was clear that she was a hopeless case in wielding a sword. She wasn't used to the extra weight to carry while fighting, and would often, in common moments of frustration, toss the sword off to the side and throw a punch instead, which sent more than one battle partner off to the doctors with a black eye, broken nose, or fat lip. Her instructors were getting fed up with teaching her, but that was minimal compared to how fed up she was with learning from them.

The last session had been the worst.

"All right, Scar, it's step right, spin, and stab, got it?" Gale, her coach for the day, instructed. Scar gave a short nod, and stepped right, spun and—

"Ahhh!"

Scar wheeled around and spotted her sword slashing through a flag someone had been holding, hitting a stone wall, and falling to the ground with a clang. She groaned.

"Damn!" she swore. A few more curses followed; Scar was often being reprimanded for her foul mouth.

Gale made no comment on her swearing; he just waved an apology at the Underlander that was holding what was now a torn flag and turned to face his hopeless student.

"Scar, we cannot have you tossing blades all around the arena. You could kill someone." He frowned.

_Like I didn't know that. _She mirrored his expression. _Anyway, let them die, it would serve them right for making me learn this. _

"I'm just not used to fighting with a weapon," she mumbled, her head down. She felt Gale try to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she hissed at him and he pulled it away. Scar lifted her head up and studied her teacher carefully. He could not have been more than fifteen or sixteen. Why was he instructing a training session so young? Was he even qualified for this? Who was he to tell her how she should fight?

"I know that," he replied to her previous statement. "But it does not matter. Now that you are living in Regalia, you have to learn how to fight like a Regalian. Simple logic. In a battle, you cannot just be punching your enemies; you would be dead in a heartbeat."

"Why would _I_ have to be in a battle? It's obvious you all hate me; why the hell would you want me fighting on your side?" she shouted, losing her temper and drawing every eye in the arena to her and Gale, including Jett's; her adoptive brother was standing a few yards away, practicing with the people who _weren't_ lost causes like she was.

"Scar—" Gale began, but with that, she stormed out of the arena, ignoring the calls behind her. And she had gone right to Scythe to ask him for a favor.

So that was how Scar had ended up where she was now; in Scythe's tunnel on the ground, staring up in frustration at the rat. Because in return for keeping his hiding place a secret, Scythe was teaching Scar how to use a sword against a real rat. And these lessons were much more progressive than her arena ones. That was probably because Scythe wasn't afraid to chew her out for displeasing him; all her human trainers drew away from her like they were scared of her. It was funny, but Scar was tired of being shunned.

When the gnawer charged at her this time, she sidestepped quickly to the edge of the cave, and when Scythe was a footstep ahead of her, she aimed her sword directly at his shoulder and managed to make a scratch before he was on top of her again. He let her up quickly and briskly nodded.

"Better. If you fight more like that every time you may stand a chance of passing your Battle Assessment." His words had approval in them.

Battle assessments were something all Underlanders between the ages eleven and fifteen were required to take once a year, to determine their training level for the following one. Except for the Final Assessment, at sixteen, to determine your place in the official Regalian army…if you _had _a place. If you failed the final, or chose not to go into a military path, then you would not be placed on the force. You would have the option to retake the final once every year after that, but only a few people chose to do that.

Scar had resisted when the trainers had first told her, about a week ago, that she would be taking it; her argument had been that she had only been here for a little while; that she wasn't used to fighting like a human, and besides, she didn't even _want _to be in the army. But they had insisted it was entirely mandatory. Scythe had told her it was better to agree with them than to resist them; as they could make her life miserable.

"But my life is already miserable, what difference does it make?" she had complained to the rat. But he had just given her that look of his; the glare mixed with a 'I know you didn't just say that to _me_' sort of expression, and she had sighed and reluctantly agreed.

"That's enough for today," Scythe yawned. "Dunno about you, but I'm beat." Scar found it weird, but oddly comforting, that Scythe treated her like a gnawer. It reassured her that she was at least okay at _something_, even if it wasn't something she was supposed to be okay at.

"But isn't Sleekshine coming today?" Scar asked. Sleekshine was Scythe's mate. Scythe had told Scar she could meet her, but hadn't said exactly when. Part of the reason Scar was asking was that she didn't want to go back to living the human life she was horrible at; she would rather stay here with the rat who at least understood her better than Jett or his parents pretended to.

"She can't," Scythe informed her. "She's stuck in some debate; they want her opinion on some nibbler conspiracy or something." He sighed. For the first time, Scar realized his predicament. For some reason, he could not return to the Gnawer's Lands, but he was caught up in a relationship with a rat who still lived there, who he loved over anything. And no one else, save Scar, who already knew, could know about them being together. He had it hard, Scar had to admit that.

"Oh, okay. Bye." Scar gave a small wave to the rat, and then left through the crevice in the wall.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

"Excellent aim, Jett! And Mars, perfect maneuvering! Couldn't have been better!"

Jett just shrugged off his coach's praise like it was nothing important. But inside, he was proud that he had pleased Pervett. Mars could probably see through his nonchalant response, because his bond twitched his big bat ears amusement.

"No big deal, huh?" the flier humorously spoke Jett's exact thoughts, with a _huh huh huh _of laughter. Jett laughed along with him.

"No big deal," he repeated with a smirk.

Jett and Mars were beginning their first advanced aerial attacks training session, and they were passing it with flying colors. The last move they had been told to do was very tricky indeed; Mars had to fly forward at full speed, barrel roll to the left, and finally do a 90 degree turn, positioning himself alongside the designated target, a sack of sand, about fifteen feet above and twenty feet away. Then he had to zoom forward once more, and while he was doing that, Jett had to throw a knife into a circle painted on the sand sack. Jett's dagger had just pierced the sack and sand had begun spilling out when the team received Pervett's praise. Mars flipped around to face their coach once more.

As Pervett beckoned to him, Jett slipped off of his bond's back and jumped to the ground. He walked over to his trainer and Pervett slapped him a high five.

"Wonderful," he said. "I had no idea your aim was so great. We should put you on dagger practice more often."

Jett just shrugged again. "Sure."

Pervett's eyes traveled around the arena, finally landing on someone and beckoning to him. The coach turned back to Jett.

"And now, Jett, there is something else I want to ask of you."

Jett stared at him quizzically. After a few seconds, the man Pervett had beckoned to before came over to them. He looked young; Jett couldn't tell if he was a student or a trainer.

Suddenly he recognized him. "You're Scar's coach," he observed, remembering his adopted sister training with him a few days ago.

The man nodded. "I am Gale," he said. There was a pause. "And actually, we've come to you to discuss Scar."

Jett cocked an eyebrow. "What's wrong with her?" he asked, then immediately regretted his words. He knew _exactly_ what was wrong with that girl. She was a stupid excuse for a human, that's what. And her training had obviously not been going well.

"Nothing, of course," Gale said quickly, probably thinking Jett was standing up for his 'family'. "But you have probably noticed that she's not…well…"

"…a great fighter?" Jett finished, guessing what he was about to say. Gale nodded, looking grateful.

"I am glad you understand, Jett," he gave a brisk nod. "So then you probably can see why we want…well, we would like it if you helped her along with her training a bit. You see her more than we do."

Behind Gale, Pervett nodded his agreement. Jett stared at the both of them, appalled.

"_Help_ her?"

"Yes."

"With her training? Me?"

"Precisely."

Jett gawked. "You want _me _to train _her?_"

"Just for a little while, until she gets the hang of it. Not permanently," said Gale quickly.

The first words out of Jett's mouth were "No! I will not."

Gale and Pervett just stared him down harder. Finally he cracked.

"Fine. I can try, if it means so much to you. But she probably will not even let me." He groaned once again. "Why do you even bother with her, anyway? We should just send her right back where she came from in the first place."

With that, he jumped into the air, and Mars was under him in seconds. The pair soared out of the arena, and Jett called a quick "Bye!" over his shoulder to his coach.

He couldn't believe this.


	7. Fang

**-Chapter Six-**

There was a clatter of metal on stone as Scar chucked her sword out of her hand. She had not been happy to hear that Jett had to help her train, and at first she had resisted.

"No! I won't!" She had shouted in his face. But he had retaliated.

"Do you think _I_ like this any more than you do? I do not want to be hear either, but I am, because I think of someone other than myself!" He cried. Scar was silent. "Now pick up that sword, and at least _pretend _like you want to learn something!"

So she had reluctantly allowed herself to be taught. But Jett wasn't an ideal teacher. He would snap at her for holding the blade wrong, would exasperatedly demonstrate a move and then yell if she didn't imitate it perfectly right the first time, or even chuck a bucket full of water on her head while she was distracted and carving obscene words on the stone street instead of practicing like she was supposed to be doing, which he had done just now.

"Hey!" She gasped, soaked from head to toe in freezing water. "What the hell was that for?"

"Do you think all of Regalia want to see those words on their street?" He scratched them out, fuming. "You are supposed to be practicing! And next time it won't be just water; it will be shrimp and cream sauce!"

Scar would have resisted, but truthfully she wouldn't put it past Jett to actually come through with his threat, and she wasn't in the mood to be showered in cream sauce. Plus, she was soaking wet. So she just tossed her sword on the ground and stormed inside the house to change.

"Sandwich help you, Scar, what happened?" Jett's mom Hilva looked shocked to see her dripping wet. The thirteen-year-old wanted to say something along the lines of 'Your imbecile of a son thinks it's so funny to dump things on my head when I'm not looking.' But she was not a squealer; she never had been.

"Nothing." She settled on that response, and then thundered up the stairs and replaced her soaked clothing.

There was nothing she could do about her hair, though; it was still sopping wet. So, for the first time since she had come here, she took the leather band Hilva had given her and tied it back, into a long silver blonde ponytail down her back.

Five minutes later, the teen found herself on the streets of the human city, heading for Scythe's wall hideout. She didn't know why, or how, but it had become impulsive for her to go to see the big gray rat whenever she was troubled.

She stormed right through the hidden crevice, ready to rant as intensely as possible to the only soul in this entire city who would even bother to listen.

"Scythe! I have to—" But her voice was cut off as she saw the rat emerge from the shadows. It was not Scythe; definitely not.

This rat was the complete opposite of Scythe; he had a pitch black pelt and he was painfully thin; but muscular at the same time. His teeth were bared in a grimace and, growling, he crouched low on both legs, swishing his long, powerful tail back and forth and looking as if he would love to pounce and sink his teeth into the unlucky human who had just entered the hidden tunnel chamber.

Now, Scythe may have been a tough fighter, but by the look of this rat, by the strong way he held himself that so suggested authority, Scar was sure her friend had nothing on him.

And then there were his teeth. They protruded out of his mouth down near his chin, and they looked sharper than any blade the Regalian blacksmiths could ever construct. They were no longer just gnawer teeth; they were weapons in their own right.

Scar's thoughts raced. She would have no chance taking on this rat with her bare hands; he was far different than rats she had found while living with Silvertail. And even if she had her sword and hadn't tossed it aside back at the house, she could not use it well enough to stand a fighting chance.

She hurriedly felt at her belt. Yes! She had a small dagger. That was her best hope, because she could use her physical strength and still have more than just a fist on her side.

She was on top of the rat in seconds, wanting to get in the first blow before he could. But he was ready for her, and immediately swerved to the side. She rolled over a few feet and gave a swift, hard kick to his vulnerable underbelly. He didn't seem affected, though, so she quickly rolled out of reach of his tail before he could send it whacking her way.

Ouch! She was thrown to the side painfully against the wall. She gave a sharp intake of breath at the sudden pain in her back, but didn't have time to dwell on it. The rat was coming closer to her.

At top speed, she ran past him, swiping her knife against his shoulder as she did .It didn't seem to affect him, though. It only made him angrier, and he reared up with a colossal growl and had the much smaller human girl pinned down in mere seconds.

Helplessly, as she felt his claws digging into her shoulders and his foul breath wafting down on her face, she aimed one last time with her dagger, into his foreleg. It didn't get in very deep, though, before he whacked it out of her hands and sent it flying off to the side of the tunnel. Warm, sticky gnawer blood splattered her face, and it was all Scar could do not to retch at the scent.

"You should think before attacking someone, you pitiful excuse for a human," the rat hissed, his voice hostile and his fangs bared right in her face. "How do you know I was going to attack you in the first place? Now, because of your insolent actions you've got yourself an unnecessary injury."

Scar scowled, despite the pain in her back. "Please, don't tell me you weren't going to attack me. It was kind of obvious; by the way you were ready to pounce."

The sleek black pelted rat shook his head tantalizingly. "Actually, if you'll believe it, I wasn't going to attack you at all."

"I don't know if I _will _believe it."

Scar thought she caught a smirk on his face. He spoke again. "You've got spirit, human."

The thirteen-year-old rolled her eyes. "I doubt that will help me against you."

This time the gnawer chuckled darkly. "No. That it won't." He did not let his grip on her shoulders slack for a second. "But, like I said, I wasn't aiming to kill you.

"Now," he began, pulling his head away a bit from its close proximity to her angered face. "I suppose you should tell me how you know the language of Gnawer."

Brief surprise flashed across Scar's face; she hadn't realized she had been speaking to the rat in his own language until now. She froze, her mind frantically trying to come up with some explanation.

"Er, I…uh, I just…That's not…"

But the rat shook his head. "Save it. I know why, Scar. You're little friend Scythe squealed on everything.

For a second Scar was blinded by pain, pain that Scythe had betrayed her and told her secrets to this rat. And then she realized what he had said. He knew her name. So Scythe had given that away as well. Oh, why had she ever trusted him? She should have known that trust only led to disastrous consequences. Hence her experiences with Silvertail.

"Anyway," The ebony rat began, "I'm Fang." He bared his teeth for emphasis, as if showing her the reason he was given his name. But Scar could care less what her captor was called.

"What have you done with Scythe?" Beside the apparent betrayal, the girl still felt like she had to defend her friend and find out what had happened to him.

Fang gave an evil looking smirk. "A place where you, nor his precious mate, can find him."

The blinding pain came back, though this time it was not for herself but for Scythe. Perhaps he had been tortured into betraying her. Perhaps he hadn't intended to reveal all the secrets she had confided in him. It was rather hard to think of that big gray rat being tortured by this one, but she had already seen what Fang could do when it came to battle.

She was about to open her mouth to shout in defiance, but at that moment he raked his claws against her face; not hard, but enough to draw blood.

"Get out of here! Now!"

Scar didn't need telling twice. She jumped up and charged out. "I'll find him!" she called, though not looking back. "I'll find him! You'll see, you idiot rat!"

And this time she meant it.


End file.
